


Sweetest Sound

by ceryss



Series: A Flower Crown [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 07:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceryss/pseuds/ceryss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is just after Sansa's tenth nameday and the Lannisters have come to visit the crown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweetest Sound

It was just two weeks after Sansa’s tenth nameday that Robert Baratheon and the Lannisters paid a visit to the royal family. They rode in with a procession that stretched miles, all red banners and golden heads. Drunken Lord Robert, Sandor could handle. He was loud, often crude, but unfailing in his loyalty to King Eddard. Upon arrival, the fat lord hunched over and pinched Sansa’s cheeks, and whispered something in her ear that made her giggle. Sandor was used to drunken fools; it was the rest of the visitors that made him wary.

Sandor could not yet decided who was worse: the beautiful Cersei, or her vile spawn. Each had their own terrible qualities to be sure, yet he still was not sure which was decidedly worse.

Cersei Lannister was a snake in waiting, it seemed to the sworn shield. Underneath those green doe-eyes and golden mane, Sandor suspected an endless collection of secrets. Despite marrying the eldest Baratheon, she remained Lady of Casterly Rock, and convinced her husband to leave Storm’s End for Stannis. It was too dreary for her taste, as it would seem. She always had ladies-in-waiting fluttering about her and begging for her favor. The way she looked at her twin was far from average as well, and he suspected something there was amiss. After all, when married to a fat, rude lord, one can’t be shocked when the lady finds affection elsewhere. It’s usually just not her brother.

Yet however bad her company was, her son’s was even worse, mainly because he hung around Sansa far too often. He was a whiny thing, one year older than his little bird and always boasting of feats Sandor knew he had not accomplished, or new shiny toys his mother bestowed on him. Wherever Sansa went, so too did the boy, courting her around the garden for walks, or accompanying her to the stables for a ride out in the yard.

To Sandor’s amusement, the little Tommen Lannister tried to do the same with eight year old Arya, but she was clearly not interested, as seen when she shoved him into the pool in the Godswood. He wished Sansa would do the same to the eldest Lannister.

But Sansa looked at the boy like he was a hero from her blasted stories. She clung to every kind word he offered her and grinned at him like a love-struck fool. Her Tully blue eyes would drift off during her lessons, and Sandor knew she was dreaming of the golden little lordling. Sandor was not a pious man, but during those moments of watching his little bird chase after the arrogant boy, the sworn shield prayed for any reason at all to whack the kid upside the head, for the Lannisters to leave, and mostly for Sansa to stop loving Joffrey so.

 

About a fortnight after their arrival, the princess had been called on by her father. Sandor stood on guard outside the solar, not able to hear much except muffled sounds of excitement from his little bird. After a quarter of an hour, the red-haired princess returned, practically bouncing with excitement.

As usual, she took her sworn shield’s hand to lead him wherever she was off to next. That always made Sandor smile. It was typical for most guards to walk a few paces behind as a sign of respect, but Sansa never seemed to grasp that concept. So, hand-in-hand, the princess told him excitedly of what had transpired between herself and King Eddard.

The little bird was to be betrothed to Joffrey Baratheon, and she could not have been happier.

That night Sandor drank far more than he should have.

He knew he would have a severe hangover the next day, heightening his misery tomorrow, but right then he couldn’t care less. They were giving his precious bird to the most undeserving bloody prick of a boy Sandor had ever met. _Fools, all of them, to think that is what she is worth._ In Sandor’s opinion, Joffrey could live a hundred lives and still never deserve the lovely princess. She was too sweet, too kind, too gentle for the likes of him.

Sandor swirled his wine as he sat in the musty tavern, the laughs of server girls and sailors muted by his overbearing thoughts. No matter how much he drank, all he could see was Sansa’s smile, only it wasn’t directed at himself, but at the shining, golden lordling. _Give me one reason_ , Sandor thought, _one reason and I’ll kill that boy_. He would do so gladly.

In the depths of his mind, the sworn shield realized he was being foolish. Princess Sansa had to grow older and get married at some point, and then she would no longer have need of her Hound. He knew all of this, and it was ridiculous to be responding in the way he was. What had he hoped to have happened? _Anyone but Joffrey Baratheon_ , he argued with himself. _If it were someone with more honor, better character, I wouldn’t be acting this way_. That seemed a reasonable enough explanation.

He drank on.

 

A few days later, Sandor followed behind as Princess Sansa walked with her soon-to-be-announced fiancée. She held his arm lightly, her hair pinned up in the way Lady Cersei wore it, and a red dress trimmed with gold fell to her ankles. Sandor tried his best to hide his displeasure; it was not hard as the little bird only had eyes for her knight.

They strolled through the garden, which was blooming it’s late summer flowers -- alive with blues and purples. The fountain could be heard gurgling in the distance, and birds pecked at the seed ladies tossed. Try as he might not to, Sandor was drawn into listening to the young couple’s conversation.

“You will love Casterly Rock, my princess.” The stupid boy affirmed with a smile that he must have thought was charming, though to Sandor he looked constipated. “The flowers will be abloom, and the sunsets match your hair.”

Sansa blushed as Sandor knew she would and grinned. “I would be honored to see your home, Joffrey. I am most looking forward to it.”

“Of course you are,” he replied confidently. “Any girl would be.”

“Do you spar with Tommen?” The little bird inquired. “My brothers mock-fight all the time, so I wondered if you do the same. I do love to watch such activity.”

The lordling laughed and seemed to puff up his chest even more as he replied haughtily, “My brother is no proper opponent for me. I spar with the men of the guard, perhaps Prince Robb should consider doing the same.”

At that, Sandor could not help but rasp out a laugh. The image of the lanky Baratheon boy against his disciplined prince was certainly an amusing thought. _Perhaps I should suggest that to Prince Robb later, it would do for Joffrey to learn some humility_.

Hearing his mirth, the couple turned around -- Sansa with curious eyes and Joff with cruel ones.

“Think something’s funny, dog?” The golden boy asked with contempt and then turned to Sansa. “My princess, won’t you send your Hound away? I can protect you just fine. Besides, his face displeases me. The ugly mutt is ruining a perfectly beautiful morning.”

Sandor clenched his jaw in anger as the arrogant boy turned to resume their walk, assuming that Princess Sansa would follow. The sworn shield was prepared to deny Sansa’s request for him to leave, after all it was his _charge_ and he could not just leave her unprotected. But the little bird did not ask him to leave her. Instead she remained rooted in place, mouth agape at her partner.

Joffrey had stopped after a few paces, seemingly confused at why the girl was no longer on his arm. “Well aren’t you coming?” He asked impatiently.

“What did you say about Sandor?” The princess hissed. It was a voice the sworn shield had never heard from her; it was King Eddard’s voice.

“What?” The boy questioned rudely.

Her fists were tight by her sides and her mouth was twisted with displeasure. “Repeat it to me. What you said.”

Obviously a little uneasy now, Joffrey glanced between the princess and Sandor before saying, “I asked if you would send your Hound away.” When Sansa said nothing, he continued, this time a bit more confidently. “I _said_ that his _ugly face_ displeases me.”

Sansa Stark had never been keen with words. She was not one of a quick wit in conversation, nor a mocking tongue. Yet Sansa Stark had learned one thing from growing up with all brothers and a sister who was as wild as a wolf. It was on that day that Sandor realized she was just as fierce as her siblings.

With an impressive windup and a red face scrunched in anger, Princess Sansa Stark hurled her fist at the golden boy of Lannister. His nose made a satisfying crunch sound upon impact -- the sweetest sound Sandor had ever heard.

While the boy cried and Sansa stared at what she had done in shock, Sandor Clegane laughed longer and louder than he had ever had in his entire life.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay imagining this scene made me really happy. So I wrote it. It seems I can’t stop writing these.
> 
> Please leave your thoughts! I hope I made you laugh! :)


End file.
